Something That Produces Results
by LateNightConversations
Summary: The one year war may be over and done. But for one young man, the life he thought he was done with has called once more. A mysterious mission awaits, and who can you trust when duty intertwines with an old friendship? (08th ms team related)
1. Chapter 1

Blue skies, I have almost forgotten to take the time to realize just how beautiful they are. Staring into the endless span of soft blue, I have also almost forgotten the feeling one gets in the pit of their stomach when someone stares from behind. Turing slowly, my eyes, also the color of the brilliant blue sky; fall on my voyeur. My thin lips form a faint smirk, I knew who it would be waiting.

"Ah, Alice….what brings you this time? Have some children for me to kidnap? Maybe some puppies to kick, a village to burn down?"

I can sense the displeasure on her face, before she even makes it known. She lights up a clove cigarette, and offers me one. I accept, and light it, holding back the urge to cough. I always hold back the urge to cough. I never, in a million years would have thought that just two short years after leaving this hell, that I would return to it.

"I don't appreciate your tone Michel. This is a matter of business Mr. Ninorich, and you know that."

She flicks her cigarette, and glares at me a little. I look her up and down, she is cold, a down right mean woman, and yet oddly attractive. Taking another drag, I slowly let the smoke trail out, and focus my eyes on her forehead. I hate looking into her eyes when she speaks to me.

"There is a village about an hour and a half east of here. We believe that someone there has information. Information that is vital to us. You will be staying there, under the assumption that you will be providing protection from any possible pending Zeon violence. Once you find the information that we need, you will take it by any means possible, and I do mean any."

I would try to protest her orders, every body who is anybody knows the threat of any sort of Zeon violence is close the nil; but Intel knows best. They pass down the orders, they know what's best. She takes a step closer, and leans in. I can feel her breath on my neck, just before her lips graze it softly. I cringe a little, I hate when she does this. I hate her, I truly do. She slips another smoke in my shirt pocket, and steps back. I shake my head as she starts to walk away, I hate you Alice Miller.

"That is an order Mr. Ninorich, don't forget that."

My eyes locked on her as she disappears from my line of sight. Everyone else was right to get out of here while the getting was good. But not me I crawled right back. I came into the war as a naïve eighteen year old boy. I left, a jaded nineteen year old stuck somewhere between a boy and a man with no sense of direction in life. These days, well today I am naïve and jaded, back serving the Federal Forces. Almost a year strait of post war rebuilding with lots of physical has added some muscle to my once scrawny frame. I shaved my head once, after letting it grow out some, I must say I prefer it over that once shaggy mop that I used to sport. Looking in the mirror at times almost makes me laugh, I almost look like the pre conceived notion of a soldier that I used to see on the recruitment posters. I have worked my way up the ladder. I am now the proud squad leader of the 2nd Reconnaissance and Intelligence squadron. Sounds fancy, right? The lines are blurred. We do lots of things, none of which I am proud. My men would never hesitate to fire their guns if needed. If only they knew the man in charge would have doubts firing his. Glancing at the sky once more, I turn and head back to base.

Walking into the barracks, I watch the four men under my command rise to their feet. Its been almost a year, and it still blows my mind. I guess a part of me doesn't feel that I have really earned their respect. I tell them what our orders are, and then flop down on my bunk. Not that it matters, I don't sleep well anyways.


	2. Chapter 2 Losing Signal

A cool breeze cut the humid night for a young woman sitting on a veranda. Kiki Rosita stared out over her village with a twinge of sadness in her heart. Though it had been mostly rebuilt after the war, it would never look or be the same. It would always have a shadow of sadness cast over it for all those lost, and for Kiki, especially the loss of her father. She drew her knees to her chest, and sighed. It was her village to lead now, the people looked up to her for approval, and guidance, as they had her father. It was a position she had never imagined she would be in, or at least not at this point in life.

She felt tears sting her eyes. The villagers may have embraced her as their leader, but if not only for being her father's daughter. She didn't feel deserving of their praise, and to be honest, most times didn't want it. She was never going to live up to the expectations they had for her. She would never be the leader her father was. Desperately she longed for a life away from it all. To move on with life, to find some adventure, somewhere she truly felt she belonged. But obligations were important, she knew her father would have wanted her to lead as he had.

A faint smile crept across her face as she thought back to the time her and Michel had gone in search of Shiro and Aina. Once they had found them, the following days spent with them had been incredible. Home cooked meals, swimming in the lake, playing cards, just enjoying the company of friends in such a simple way of life. No having to fill impossible shoes, just being free. But all good things have to come to an end.

Rising to her feet, Kiki reached for a ring around a chain on her neck, she ran her fingers over the ring. It had been her fathers ring, one of the few things left after their home had been destroyed. With another sigh, she looked up to the night sky.

"Daddy…what am I supposed to do?"

Shaking her head, she couldn't help but feel a little silly. It wasn't like the answer would be given. Turning to go inside, she paused and looked over the village once more, before shutting the door and turning out the lights. It's not like she slept well anyways.


End file.
